#4, 

#G>oo 


ffo  95. 

DANIEL  MURRAY, 

Late    Lieutenant    in     the   American 
Wavy. 

EXTRACT  FROM  A   LETTER   WRITTEN 
BY   A  PIOUS  LAWYER. 


When  I  arrived  at  the  residence  of.  our  late 
friend  Mr.  Daniel  Murray.  I  found  him  apparently 
dying.  He  had  arranged  all  his  affairs,  talked  fn 
the  most  cheerful,  consoling  manner  to  his  family 
and  friends,  and  sent  messages  of  affectionate  re- 
gard to  those  who  were  absent.  He  received  me 
with  great  animation,  and  a  smile  that  showed  he 
was  filled  with  "all  joy  and  peace."  He  express- 
ed his  thankfulness  at  my  visit,  spoke  of  his  many 
and  great  comforts,  the  perfect  peace  and  happi- 
ness he  felt,  and  the  sure  hope  which  enabled  him 


to  welcome  death,  that  he  might  be  with  his  Sa- 
viour. He  declared  that  it  was  to  him  alone  he 
looked  with  this  confident  hope  ;  that  he  was  him- 
self unworthy,  and  trusted  entirely  to  the  merits 
of  his  Redeemer.  Hours  were  passed  in  conver- 
sions like  these. 

Though  weak,  he  seemed  to  gather  strength 
from  the  exercise  of  holy  thoughts  and  affections. 
"Psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs,"  and 
passages  of  Scripture,  were  continually,  .by  his 
desire,  read  and  repeated  to  him ;  and  his  counte- 
nance, lighted  up  by  the  emotions  they  awakened, 
showed  the  fulness  of  joy  which  his  lips  labored 
to  express.  He  wished  all  .his  domestics  and 
laborers,  and  his  neighbors  and  acquaintances,  to 
be  present,  each  of  whom  was  called  to  receive 
an  affectionate  farewell,  with  kind  and  solemn 
words  of  suitable  admonition  and  encouragement. 

These  exertions,  he  said,  did  not  weary  or  dis- 
tress him,  and  ho  wished,  in  the  short  time  he  had' 
left,  to  say  and  do  every  thing  in  bis  power  that 
might  be  useful  At  one  time  he  requested,  in 
our  prayers  with  him,  that  we  should  use  the 
prayers  for  the  dying,  after  one  of  which  be  told' 
me  he  had  hoped  that  he  should  have  departed 
while  we  were  using  that  prayer.  He  requested 
some  of  the  psalms  hymns  from  the  prayer-book  to 
be.  read  to  him.  These  all  seemed  to  give  him 
the  greatest  delight,  but  he  was  particularly  ex- 
cited by  the  one  beginnings  "How  firm  a  founda- 
tion/' etc. 


At  one  .  apparent  revival  gave  hopes 

of  his  restoration  to  others,  but  not  to  himself — 
He  spoke  of  his  death  as  near  and  certain ;  and 
though  willing  to  submit  to  a  recovery,  it  was 
manifest  that  he  neither  expected  nor  desired  it. 
He  was  right  in  his  opinion — the^e  hopes  disap- 
peared. His  strength  declined  very  gradually., 
till  these  interesting  communications  with  him 
could  no  longer  be  continued  ;  but  the  peace  and 
joy  of  his  soul,  when  they  ceased  to  be  littered  by 
his  lips,  were  still  radiant  m  his  countenance  to 
the  last.  A  few  minutes  before  he  expired,  he 
was  told  his  departure  was  near,  and  asked  if  he 
still  felt  the  hopes  and  happiness  he  had  expir- 
ed. He  expressed  bis  assent  by  a  smile  and  the 
pressure  of  his  hand  ;  and  soon  these,  and  all 
other  indications  of  life,  gently  and  almost  imper- 
ceptibly disappeared. 

And  now  permit  me  to  say  something  of  him 
who  thus  died.  Upwards-  of  thirty  years  ago  he 
made  profession  of  religion.  From  that  time  to 
his  death,  during  a  retired  and  domestic  life,  he 
was  known  as  a  warm,  consistent  Christian. — 
All  this  you  know.  But  I  knew  him  long  before 
this.  At  eight  or  nine  years  of  age,  he  being  a 
year  older,  we  became  intimate,  and  were  brought 
up  together  almost  in  the  same  family.  We  con- 
tinued thus  until  he  entered  the  navy,  I  think  in 
the  year  1798;  and  ever  since  we  have  been 
much  together,  and  always  on  terms  of  the  closed 
friendship. 


From  my  earliest  recollections  of  him,  his  char- 
acter and  conduct  were  so  remarkable,  that  lie 
seemed  to  me  without  a  fault.  No  .temptations 
ever  seemed  to  surprise  him.  No  allurement  or 
persuasion  led  him  irom  his  course.  I  remember 
well  how  strong  his  influenco  was  over  me,* and 
how  it  was  always  used  for  my  good.  But  I  as- 
cribed to  natural  causes  altogether  the  peculiarity 
and  excellence  of  his  character,  and  did  not  see 
how  religion  could  change  him,  who  seemed 
already  as  perfect  as  a  human  being  could  be. — 
This  was  not  only  my  thought ;  all  who  knew  him 
well  thus  estimated  him. 

I  remember  being  present  at  a  "conversation  on 
the  subject  of  religion  between  the  late  John 
Randolph  and  Commodore  Decatur,  who  had 
known  Mr.- Murray  while  in  the  navy.  The  latter 
was  expressing  his  difficulties  about  the  universal 
sinfulness  of  man's  nature.  Tt  surprised  him  that 
the  very  best  people  in  the  world  should  always 
speak  of  themselves  as  sinners.  He  mentioned' 
his. own  mother  as  .an  instance;  and  then  turning' 
to  me  said,  "There,  too,  is  our  friend  Murray ; 
you  know  what  «i  man  he  is :  who  ever  saw  any 
thing  wrong  m  him  ?  Ts  it  not  absurd  to  think 
of  such  a  man  as  a  sinner  ?  And  yet  he  accounts 
himself  such."  I  shall  never  forget  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph's reply  to  this.  He  ■  rose  from  his  sofa, 
walked  towards  Decatur,  stood  before*  him,  and  in 
his  emphatic  manner  said  to  this  effect;  "I  well 
know  how  dark  and  unintelligible  this  subject  ap- 


pears  to  you,  and  why  it  is  so.  But  I  trust  a 
time  will  come  when  you  will  know. and  feel  it  to 
be  nil  true — true  of  all,  true  of  yourself;  wHen 
you  will  be  self-arraigned  and  self>eondemed ; 
found  guilty  of  sin — not  of  the  sin  of  cowardice, 
falsehood,  or  any  mean  and  dishonorable  act,  but 
at  least  of  this,  that  you  have  had  conferred  upon 
you  great  and  innumerable  favors,  and  have  re- 
quited your  Benefactor  with  ingratitude;  This 
will  be  guilt  enongh  to  humble  you,  and  you  will 
feel  and  own  that  you  are  a  sinner." 

The  ■  difficulties,  however,  that  I  had  felt  from 
tljis  appreciation  of  his  early  character,  were  all 
cleared  up  at  the  death-bed  of  my  friend.  On 
my  first  seeing  him  he  said.  "You  witness  my 
most  comfortable  and  happy  sfate.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe it  to  you.  Now  I  owe  it  all  to  you,  though 
I  never  told  you,  and  you  never  knew  it." — 
Shortly  after  this,  when  we  were  alone,  he  called 
to  me  and  said,  "Now,  I  will  tell  you  wl Kit  I 
never  told  you  or  any  one.  When  we  first  met, 
and  you  were  a  little  boy,  your  good' mother  had 
taught  you  a  hymn,  whi:-h  you  used  to  repeat 
aloud  every  night  in  getting  into  bed.  That 
hymn  made  a  remarkable  nnd  deep  impression  on 
me,  'which  was  never  effaced.  Without  your 
knowing  it,  I  got  it  by  heart  from  hearing  you 
repeat  it;  and  from  that  time  to  this,  I  have  nev- 
er gone  to  my  rest  at  night  without  repeating  to 
myself  fhat  hymn  and  praying.  This  had  a  most 
salutary  effect  upon   me  all  my  life.     When  at 


sea,  I  never,  under  any  <jke*#iasfca$9«Sj  omitt$£ifc; 
and  under  the  influence  produced  by  it,  I  remem- 
ber that  when  I  was  once  for  a  abort  time  -in  com- 
mand of  a  small  brig  we  had  captured  from  the 
French  in  the  Mediterranean,  one  of  the- first  or- 
ders I  gave,  was  for  the  regular  meeting  of  all 
hands  for  reading  and  prayer,  which  was  well  re- 
ceived, and  had  a  good  effect. "  He  then  repeated 
it  to  me,  and  I  took  a  pencil  and  wrote  it  down. 
I  had  forgotten  every  word  of  it. 

Here  then  I  saw  the  true  source  of  all  that  bad 
so  charmed  and  surprised  me  in  his  life.  "What  I 
had  attributed  to  the  impulse  of  a  gentle  and  no- 
ble nature,  were  the  "fruits  of  the  Spirit,1'  and 
the  excellence  that  shbne  forth  in  his  conduct  and 
character  was  "the  beauty  of  holiness."'  This 
he  acknowledged  with  all  thakfulness,  and  with 
the  deepest  humility )  speaking'  of  it  as  an  infi- 
•nite  and  undeserved  mercy,  which  he  had  not  im- 
proved as  he  ought.  Tt  now  seems  strange  to  me 
that  I  had  never  discovered  this,  but  I  was  walk- 
ing in  darkness,  and  therefore  perceived  not  the 
light  by  which  he  was  directed. 

Surely  God  has  here  shown  us  some  of  the  do- 
ings of  nig  wonder-working  hand.  A  pious 
mother,  .teaches  her  child  a  hymn.  It  makes  no 
impression  upon  his  heart,  and  is  soon  effaced  from 
his  memory.  But  its  work  is  done,  and  it3  fruits 
appear  in  the  heart  and  life  of  another.        .> 

Shall  she  complain  that  the  seed  has  been  blown 


From  the  soil  over  which  she  so  carefully 
cast  it,  to  take  root  in  another?  Xo.  'As  the 
heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  G6d's 
ways  higher  than  our  ways,  and  his  thoughts  than 
our  thought-/'  -Who  will  say  unto  him,  what 
doest  thou?"  That  seed,  thus  blown  away,  pro- 
duced its  rich  fruits,  and  they  were  then  brought 
back  to  the  spot  whi$o  her  prayers  bad  desired 
they  should  bless.  Her  wayward  child  had  for- 
gotten her  instructions,  but  they  had  made  for 
him  a  friend,  whose  influence  and  counsel  and  ex- 
ample restrained  and  strengthened  him  in  the 
dangerous  paths  of  youth,  whose  life  had  taught 
him  how  to  live,  and  whose  death  hath  now  taught 
him  how  to  die. 

Well  may  he  bless  God,  for  this  "his  servant 
departed  this  life  in  faith  and  fear  ;"  and  ask  "  his 
grase  so  lo  follow  his  good  example,  that  with 
him  he  mxy  be  a  partaker  of  the  heavenly  king- 
dom/' 


PRAYER  FORTBRUffMES  FROMEOME. 

BY  B.  MANLY,  JR.,  D.  D.,  OF  S.  C. 

f  .  •*  .  ■  .  •  * 

Father,  who  in  heaven  hearest 

Always  when  thy  children  pray. 
Smile  upon  our  best  and  dearest, 
Far,  far  away. 

When  their  voices  rise  to  Heaven, 

Incense  sweet  at  close  of  day, 

May  thy  grace  to  them  be  given, 

Far,  far  away. 

When  in  sadness,  dark  and  dreary, 

Hearts  are  sunk  that  once  were  gay, 
Calm  the  troubled,  soothe  the  weary, 
Far,  far  away. 

'Mid  the  roar  of  battle's  thunders, 

When  war's  fiercest  lightnings  play, 
Save  them,  thou  that  doest  wonder^ 
Far,  far  away, 

Soon,  0  Lord,  in  peace' restore  £h.cm, 

Safe  in  happy  liGines  to  "Stay, 
Heaven's  rich  blessings  smiling  o'er  them. 
Not  far  away. 

And  when  all  their  toil  is  over, 

Take  them,  Lord,  to  dwell  with  thee> 
Freed  from  care  and  sin  forever," 
Far,  far  away, 


Hollinger  Corp. 
pH8.5 


